Criminal Love
by Acerbus Animus
Summary: When the MO from a series of murders that occurred almost a decade ago return, Mac and company are confused as to what is happening. The suspect is already in a highsecurity prison. But, what's this? One of there own is keeping some very big secrets. Dann
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I only own the Original Characters belonging to the Baldaserre family and "Alexia Cortez". All other facts belong to their rightful persons.

The rain was still cool for mid-July, but that was normal for New York. School had been out for almost a month. It was because of this, that the streets had been covered by kids that were loitering, until the threat of the overcast sky became a reality.

Alexia Cortez was making her way down the street, a light blue umbrella over her head. Even though her friend's parent had offered her a ride, she'd turned them down. The rain always washed out all the pollution from the air and left behind the scent that she missed from when she lived in the countryside of Illinois.

The walk home only took about twenty minutes. However, now that the roads were slick and there were crazy drivers out, she didn't risk dashing across the street regardless of the light colour.

A yawn escaped her as she waited for another light to allow her the almost-guaranteed safe passage across the busy intersection. There was an alley just a bit away on the next block. The only worry she had was that the rain would escalate the actual scent of the trash.

She clutched tightly to the strap at her side. Her purse was in the bag, safely pressed against the side. She'd been in a hurry when she left the gym. Sarah always took shorter showers after the tennis practices than she did. The hurry meant that she hadn't turned her phone back on; the coach hated being interrupted.

The emergency pepper-spray was pressed against the handle of the umbrella for easy access.

She smiled, remembering the laughs her paranoia had gotten from the team. _They_ didn't have parents who remembered the rapes that her neighbourhood was once famous for.

"Finally!"

Alexia's long legs quickly carried her over the black street. Her expensive athletic shoes helped her as well.

"No, please, I beg you!"

She paused just outside of the alley, her heart beginning to pound. Whoever had spoken had a foreign accent, something that she could almost recognize.

There was a small grunt, followed by the sound of feet scuffling on the cement. A scream, one that raised the hairs on the back of her neck, erupted from the dark. Almost instantly, it was abruptly cut off. At the disgusting gurgles, she backed up and hid in a heavily shadowed stoop of the closest shop.

There was a high-pitched giggle from the alley, before a pair of feet began to move. As the sound grew louder, she stopped trying to see around the corner.

Her heart was pounding in her chest; it almost hurt. The last time it felt like that, she'd just done a killer warm up consisting of fifteen suicides followed by another fifteen "hail Mary"s. The coach had an odd sense of humour; by the time she'd gotten done with two of them, three other girls had already puked.

Now, however, _she_ wanted to do the puking.

She briefly remembered to hold her breath, closing her eyes involuntarily as someone rushed past in a wave of cold air.

Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. Eventually, she remembered that someone was hurt in the alley. Only she could possibly save the foreign man's life. Glancing around once more, nervously, she ran out of the stoop and paused at the entryway to the alley.

"Hello?" she called hesitantly.

Perhaps the man could still talk. However, as time passed by in silence, that hope fell.

Alexia stepping into the darkness; later she would wish she hadn't. A couple hesitant steps took her away from the immediate light. In fact, she could barely see a few inches in front of her face.

"Wonderful," she grumbled to herself.

With a sigh, she managed to remember there was a small flashlight in her bag. She unzipped it only enough to reach her hand inside. Almost angrily, she shoved away the stupid clothes in order to find the object. Finally she did.

Pulling it out, she zipped the bag back up and pushed it out of her way. A click, and there was life.

"Oh my God!" she said, almost screaming.

The man who had screamed definitely had reason to. His tongue was lying on the ground, with his eyeballs on it.

With shaking hands, she got her cell phone from her pocket and dialed 911.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Go look at the one from last chapter. I still don't own _CSI: New York_.

**A/N:** This is being updated out of response for the episode next week. Danny cries on Mac's shoulder. It made my day to see that and I've been impatiently waiting for when _Tanglewood_ would come up and strike again. Anyway, this will eventually be a Danny/OC fic. There will be slight Stella/Mac and maybe a bit of Danny/Lindsay.

* * *

"What have we got?"

Mac Taylor stood next to one of his colleagues, Stella Bonasera. He'd been sleeping when he got the call. Apparently, he wasn't the only one.

Stella yawned, barely moving a hand up to try and cover it. "All I've gotten from anyone is that a girl just stumbled upon some sort of fight. She heard the victim scream and hid. The suspect ran past, she didn't see him, and tried to help."

"Sounds like you've gotten a lot, so far." He squinted a little. "Did she hear anything?"

His gaze landed on a young girl, barely in her teens, talking to a couple of female police. She was too distraught to actually talk to any of the men.

"Yeah, actually." Stella pinched the bridge of her nose as the hint of an oncoming headache threatened. She already wanted two Tylenol and a glass of water. "She said that a couple of seconds after the scream, the suspect _giggled_. 'It sounded like a little kid's "got-a-new-toy" giggle', is what she said."

Mac just nodded his head, looking around. He wanted coffee, and badly. There hadn't been enough time to start a new batch after cleaning out the old grounds. Hopefully, by the time they got back with evidence, someone else would have one.

Maybe Lindsay.

"I haven't any idea how much she'll help anymore. She had her eyes closed; no use to have her do a line-up. I doubt there will be enough of a fingerprint for AFIS."

Mace turned his gaze back to her with a _very_ grim smile.

"We've got more than you think."

She frowned in confusion. His tone of voice managed to distract her from the growing migraine.

"What are you talking about, Mac?" she asked, trying to hide her annoyance and frustration.

He pointed at the camera hanging from the corner of the shoe store. Stella followed his finger, before smiling a little.

She glanced at him. "I'll get the tape."

Before he could respond, he heard Sheldon's voice calling his name. He nodded at her, before crossing the sidewalk. He lifted the yellow tape and ducked under it to begin his way over the coroner-gone-CI.

"Yeah?"

"I think you'd better see this."

He waited until he was level with Sheldon, barely an inch from the man's hand.

"What've we…" he trailed off, an eyebrow rising in surprise. "Interesting."

On the man's neck, close to his jaw, was a strange symbol cut into the flesh. He'd recognized it immediately. Most CI's in New York would.

"This isn't possible," he murmured. "Did you take pictures of this yet?"

"First thing," Sheldon said proudly. "Do you recognize this? Is that what you mean?"

He gave his friend a look. "How are you awake?"

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said with a sheepish grin.

Mac nodded. "When you finish up here, bring this back to the lab. I've got something to look into."

Sheldon nodded, before hunching back over to continue looking for major evidence. Mac didn't hesitate long enough to find out what he was checking on. The image of the tattoo burned fresh in his mind.

The ride back to the Crime Lab, while quiet, was full of thoughts.

It wasn't possible for it to _really_ be who he thought it was. That person was locked up almost a decade ago. It simply was _not_ possible.

Was it?

Getting out of the car, he was surprised to see that the other vehicles were still there. Surely there was another case, somewhere, already. It was NYC! There were thousands of crimes a day.

It didn't surprise him that the first thing he saw upon reentering was Danny Messer yawning. Still wiping the sleep from his eyes, Danny waved a greeting at Mac. He wasn't in the mood to be lectured, but the look on his boss' face told him he was going to get it anyway.

"Morning." The voice of Lindsay startled them both.

She just smiled quickly at Danny, before directing her full attention to Mac.

"There's a pot of coffee brewing." She held up a hand to stay his questions. "I figured you didn't have time to make one from the time you got the call. If we didn't want you down our throats until lunch, then I figured I'd better get you some caffeine. I watch you, Mac, and I take notes. It's what I do."

Danny took the momentary distraction of Mac's attention to slip away. He hadn't been on his good side recently. Things outside of work had not been going smoothly he'd been good at gut feelings; something told him that someone was keeping major secrets from him. It was getting on his nerves, so he'd been irritable and _more_ "hot-headed" than normal.

"So, what is it this time, Mac?"

Danny paused in his attempted getaway, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Mac sighed, glancing away. It was natural for Lindsey to be curious since she wasn't used to the big crimes of a major city. He didn't really mind the curiosity, either. It proved she was dedicated. If only everyone was as dedicated.

He glanced at Danny.

"We've got a homicide. The curious thing is, there's a tattoo on the victim's cheek that matches one on the bodies of those murdered by a convict, as well as on the convict them self."

Lindsey frowned. "But, shouldn't that person be off the streets?"

"Unless someone who was close to them and knew wanted to help."

Danny's heart froze.

It couldn't be possible.

"No, he murmured softly, before hurrying down the hallway. He didn't care what Mac, or Lindsay, thought.

However, he _did_ know that he owed Lindsey a big thank-you. She'd distracted Mac _and_ gotten information out of him on the newest case. That was a lot harder than one could imagine.

Mac Taylor was practically a brick wall.


End file.
